Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

leaned up for another kiss, lapping and licking over Devon's lips before he pulled away. "Hmm, can't wait."
    They finished undressing, each taking a turn in the bathroom to wash up, and then crawled under the covers. Devon rolled onto his side, shifting until his back was pressed against Scott's chest. Scott slid his arms around him, kissing the back of his neck and snuggling his nose in his nape. Devon twined their fingers together, sighed, and fell quiet.
    Scott had questions about the evening, but sometimes things had to play out on their own. It seemed like this was one of those times. Devon was struggling with something, but Scott didn't want to press him until he was ready or asked for help. He snuggled in tighter to Devon, right leg slipping between Devon's so they were as close as humanly possible. Closing his eyes, Scott willed sleep to take him.
    Early morning brought more kissing and reciprocal hand-jobs before a kissy-feely shower session. Then Scott was off to work, leaving a towel-wrapped Devon to lock up and leave whenever he was ready. It was domestic to the point of Scott feeling a little dose of panic tighten his chest, but he managed to shrug it off, the image of a half-naked Devon helping him get through the day.
    ****
    Saturday nights became like clockwork, with Devon showing up just before midnight, tired from a long week but not too tired to spend time with Scott. They talked a little but generally that was their night to fuck themselves into exhaustion, and then curl up together in Scott's bed. It was a routine Scott hadn't sought out—hadn't been his idea in the first place—but it made their relationship seem more real. Devon showed up on other nights as well, but Saturday nights and Sundays had been designated as Devon time , at least in Scott's head.
    Sunday mornings were pretty routine, as well. No, routine wasn't the right word—it implied their day was boring and mundane—and that was exactly what it wasn't. The day generally started the same way, with Scott doing his stalker act and then making coffee (and one horrible-smelling tea or another). It was comfortable and comforting, and Scott felt a familiarity and intimacy between him and Devon that he'd never felt with anyone else. They never talked about what had happened their evening out or what was happening between them, and Scott wasn't even sure if anything was happening at all for Devon. Maybe he just needed a place to crash on Saturday nights and somewhere to chill out on Sundays, but for Scott it was so much more than that—so much more.
    They took turns making breakfast, nothing scheduled or set in stone, but it had definitely become a Sunday morning ritual. Scott's breakfast usually consisted of scrambled eggs and toast while Devon was more creative with fluffy cheese, veggie or spicier-than-fuck omelets. He always added some sort of fruit to the plate along with grits and sausage or bacon. Those added items were things he'd begun to bring with him, along with oranges for the fresh-squeezed juice he liked so much.
    Scott had mulled over the idea of having Devon just add to his shopping list every week but the notion was shot down in his brain before it saw the light of day. It was far too domestic and bold for Scott to even be thinking that way, and Devon did not seem like a domesticated guy in any sense of the word.
    Late mornings and afternoons were spent on the sun porch or the couch, the two of them snuggled together reading or doing a Sudoku or Kakuro puzzle—Scott was not a fan of crosswords, but numbers he could relate to. They talked, but never about anything too personal, though Devon did ask more questions about Scott than he answered about himself. He was a master at changing the subject or distracting Scott away from whatever he'd asked, not a hard task when all he really had to do was throw a dimple Scott's way, and Scott wasn't inclined to rock the boat anyhow.
    There was quiet kissing and fondling, but the heat level on Sundays was like the day itself; lazy, relaxed, contented—unless there was a Saints game on of course. One Sunday found Scott and Devon cuddling on the comfy settee on the sun porch. Devon had his eyes closed and head tilted back, his rugged face sucking up all the light and warmth in the room while Scott leisurely mapped out and traced the magnificent designs and colors on Devon's left arm.
    "This face on your arm, an ex-girlfriend maybe?"
    Devon chuckled, eyes staying closed, arm